


playmates

by proverbial_golden_light



Category: Batman - All Media Types, Batman: Arkham - All Media Types
Genre: Arkham Asylum, Awkward Romance, Chess, F/M, Fluff and Humor, How Do I Tag, I prefer my Harley stupid, Joker's always game, M/M, Multi, Romance, The Riddler might not be riddling as much as he should, and things that happen there, does THAT count as harassment?, i couldn't decide, so this is now an OT3, they're playing chess
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-10
Updated: 2018-07-10
Packaged: 2019-06-08 15:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,668
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15246408
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/proverbial_golden_light/pseuds/proverbial_golden_light
Summary: The day he starts actually hearing voices is the day he stops calling himself Edward Nygma.Because, well, that would be hitting a whole new low.





	playmates

**Author's Note:**

> Please be very mindful of my use of “ ” and ‘ ’ since they're meant to express different kinds of dialogue, out loud speaking and thoughts, respectively. This is relevant storywise.  
> Enjoy!

The first time it happened, Edward Nygma was so at a loss that he actually had to pause his game of chess against himself and take the time to look around. No one was in his immediate proximity at Arkham Asylum’s common room; he was sitting in a secluded corner, from where he could watch all the other inmates roaming about, in the middle of their usual struggle to find something to entertain themselves with, when he _heard_ it.

 

_‘Why so lonely, Eddie boy?’_

There it was again, the Riddler turned sharply on his chair to look behind, but saw nothing. No one was standing behind him, near him, not even close, and yet he could hear the words as clearly as if they'd been whispered sweetly in his ear.

“Oh, please! I don't have time for this! I will be up for parole next week and can't afford to lose it completely right now.” He was becoming exasperated, but did his best to push the nagging feeling of being watched aside and refocused on his game. Ten minutes later he had almost entirely forgotten about the issue and was ready to score a definitive check mate when a pair of deadly white hands grabbed him roughly by the shoulders.

“I'm tellin’ ya, boy! Keep playing against yerself like that and everyone will think you crazy for real, hehehe!” Out of thin air, Edward found Joker standing behind him and almost pinning him to the chair with a firm grasp of bony fingers, his happy cackle filling the air of the entire room in mere seconds. He should have seen it coming.

Turning his head around, the Riddler was about to retort, with one of his haughty comments, when another pair of hands held him suddenly by the cheeks, practically smacking him in the process, and squeezed his face the same way an insufferable long lost aunt would do to an infant.

“What're you sayin’ Mr. J? Eddie here is already mentally interesting!” Squealed Harley, still with a hold of Edward’s face, making his head forcefully turn this way and the other, pinching his cheeks so hard they became apple red.

“You sure are one to talk, you demented couple of crackers!” He started flailing his arms wildly, in an attempt to separate himself from his, if anyone out there cared to know about specifics, molesters.

“Crackers? I think we'd rather have bananas! Ain't that right, Harl?”

And they both bursted into laughter, doubled over, holding their stomachs with both arms and gasping desperately, as if in pain. Eddie merely rolled his eyes. Hard.

“Well, if that is all, I'm afraid I need to ask you to leave.” He tried not to seethe too much and appear somewhat unaffected, he had a reputation to maintain after all. “I have a very important rendezvous with the only person in this God forsaken place who could at least _attempt_ to surpass my dexterity at this particular brand of applied strategical skill. _Myself_ , of course.” He proclaimed with a flourish. “Now… Go. Away.” And finished it with a ‘shooing’ motion of his hand.

  _‘Is that so? You sure are confident, pal.’_

This time it was unmistakable, a voice that was not his own was talking to him from the recesses of his mind. Not only talking but _chatting,_ determined to strike a conversation with him! Oh, God. This was probably it, the beginning of the end for him and (what he considered to be) his brilliant criminal career…

“Hey, Ed, focus.” Joker snapped his fingers a few times in front of the other’s face, bringing him down to earth. “I was saying: why don't you let me play?” He said rather enthusiastically, stretching his smile and his scarred cheeks to the very limit.

“Wha…?”

“C’mon, boy! Let your ole friend Joker partake in a game!” He got closer again, allowing his voice to drop an octave or two. “We'll have one hell of a time.”

A powerful shiver, cold like death, ran down the whole length of the Riddler’s spine without warning, leaving him shaken and making him gulp reflexively. But even in his sudden emotional disadvantage, he strived to hold his ground.

"Do you even _know_ how to play, clown?” He said after clearing his throat, and back to his usually biting way of speech.

“Oh, Eddie, you wound me! Of course I do.”

“Well, if that’s the case, _maybe…_ ”

“Harley! Bring me a chair!”

“Right away Mr. J~”

"Sweet Motherboard.”

 

* * *

 

 No more than thirty minutes had passed and Edward ‘The-self-appointed-Great’ Nygma was already regretting his lapse in judgment. And not precisely in the way one might be prone to expect.

“WHAT. ON. EARTH. ARE YOU DOING?”

“You mean besides humbling your spirit by kicking your smartass?”

“That was MY horse! MINE!” Exclaimed a fuming Nygma, gesturing heatedly with his indignant index finger. Sometimes signaling accusatory to Joker and sometimes sticking it roughly on his own chest for emphasis. “And _it_ was a **vital** piece of a complex, thoroughly devised, chain of moves that would eventually lead me to indisputable victory over smaller minded beings like you! So there is just NO WAY you could have seen through it. It was perfect! You cheated! I _am_ convinced you cheated somehow! And I will not have it… Explain yourself this instant!” After finishing his rant, he sunk back in his chair to wait for the other’s answer with crossed arms and something very akin to a pout on his face. He looked so much like a sullen child that even the mass murderer at the opposite side of the table found it a tiny bit endearing.

“Are those the words of a sore loser I'm hearing? Don't blame the handsome player, Ed, blame the game!” The glee on Joker’s features was uncontainable and, frankly, exasperating.

“ **I am _not_ ** a sore loser. I haven't even lost, you dumbass!”

"Patience, my boy, we're gettin’ there~” At this he rubbed his hands maliciously, bent on taunting Edward as much as possible. To what purpose? It remained to be seen.

Meanwhile, the aforementioned individual’s mental space was pure _chaos_. He simply couldn't wrap his mind around the current events: He had wanted nothing but to utterly crush Joker from the moment the round started, as payback for all the humiliation and plain suffering the other had caused him over the years, and he had envisioned it happening a certain way too… No detours. No second chances. It was perfect timing and ideal environment anyway. So, as the genius he was, he immediately set into motion one of his most ambitiously crafted strategies in order of destroying Joker’s game, Joker’s hope, Joker’s _everything._

The thing is... It wasn't working. The infamous clown kept avoiding again and again each and every single one of his traps with unsettling ease, as if merely _dancing_ across the board this way or the other without really thinking and, of course, upsetting the delicate order of all his other valuable pieces in the process. All the while he kept an eerily serene expression, cradling his face on both his hands with his elbows over the table. No lettuce has ever looked fresher.

Scary.

Riddler, on the other hand, had broken into a cold sweat and was squeezing his brains for dear life to try and think of _something_ that might help him get back on track here, or at least uncover the maniac’s trick once and for all. _Then_ he would be able to counter and redeem himself at long last. With a hand gripping his own forehead and the eyes fixed on the chessboard, he couldn't help his next thoughts: ‘It's as if this bastard was _reading_ my goddamn mind...! Well, whatever. Breathe in, breathe out, and **think** , Nygma. If I go back to my original position near the corner and move my bishop to the other si—’

_‘That ain't gonna work.’_

Irked to no end after hearing this, Edward switched his gaze from the board to Joker’s, murderous intent clear in his eyes and in the way he blurted out a very offended “Excuse me?”.

“For what, Eddie?” Asked Harley from her lounging position on the nearby couch. She looked confused as always.

“Nothin’ at all, Pumpkin Pie! Smarts here just got his wires crossed and started sharing his ‘super-secret’ strategy with the class~” Joker chimed in.

“Ohh, I see! Thinkin’ out loud won't do you no good in chess, Eddie. You should stop.” The girl chided lovingly from afar while wiggling her finger in a ‘no’ motion, supposedly giving clever advice to the intellectual. But said man didn't answer, because he had realized something important. A theory of sorts.

Now he only had to test it.

In the time it takes for the heart to beat once, a frowning Edward had taken his tower and shoved it as far as it could go in any direction over a straight row of squares, practically crashing it with Joker’s now fallen pawn, and effectively dismantling any elaborate gambit he might have previously conceived in the process. And, to make things worse, he had only decked a miserable _pawn_. Outrageous.

Still… The brief moment Joker’s eyes widened, caught by surprise for the first time this evening, was _oh so worth it_.

The madman recovered immediately though, countering with the queen itself and turning Eddie’s tower to dust in his next strike. But to do so, the Riddler observed, it had been forced to advance into a vulnerable position. Almost entirely in the open.

This was his chance.

He focused with all his might on the queen; trying to picture, as clear as he could in his mind’s eye, how he brought it down with his remaining horse’s help. He even _narrated_ the scene in his mind. And, right before he made his move, he risked a quick glance at Joker’s face, whose manic smile was stretching wider by the second. This was _definitely_ **it**.

Then, quick as a lightning, the Riddler took a random piece from his side and lurched against Joker’s closest piece in its range, successfully taking another down. A stupid pawn again. Shame on him.

But nonetheless, there it was again, the jester’s splitting smile from before had vanished in the blink of an eye just like when he’d taken his first pawn away. And subsequently put back into place, _just like before_ too. He allowed himself to grin in spite of being barely a hair away from losing the game completely. He felt satisfied.

‘Ohhh, so you’ve got it figured out, Edward?’ A taunting voice, playful on the edges, reverberated in the Riddler’s mind.

‘Why, o _f course._ What were you expecting, _Joker_?’ The intellectual answered without opening his mouth, looking at the other man dead in the eyes, a cocky little smirk blossoming on his face. “Riddle me this: Which is the phone that no one can answer, except for those who can for sure? Invisible ocean of unseeable motion, with currents like thoughts and feelings like tides. A network suspended by its very existence, there’s no way to prove it besides that you _can._ ”

The Joker was barely about to speak when Harley shot up from the couch she had been so sluggishly laying on, picking at her nails and with no apparent care in the world nor in their little testosterone-fueled chess competition, her hand enthusiastically up to the ceiling all of a sudden. Like a child who knows the answer to a teacher’s question for the first time ever. “Oh, oh! I know, Eddie! I know!”

Both men turned to look at her and then looked at each other, the Joker starting to giggle at Edward’s addled face. ‘Ow, sorry, Ed. You may need to practice a bit more, hehe. I think you said that _out loud_.’ He whispered directly into the other’s mind while covering his own mouth with both hands, allegedly to try and suffocate the increasing laughter bubbling up his throat. Edward’s suddenly pink face didn’t help his case. It was _delightfully_ amusing.

“Eddie! _Eddiiieee!_ Please let me answer! I know this one! C’mon~!” Harley’s repetitive pleas, intertwined with Joker’s ungodly laugh, was turning into a mortal concoction for the Riddler’s ears. He rubbed at his temples, until he could take it no more and slammed his hands on the table, making some chess pieces jump out of the board from the impact. “Shut up, you two!” He roared. And if his still rosy cheeks were a little _unconvincing_ , the clowns didn’t comment on it and shut up anyway.

“Aww, babe, don’t get mad. I promise ya’ll have this whole _telepathy_ thingy sorted out sooner than what Batman takes to arrive to a crime scene~” The Joker winked at Edward, who only made a face.

Harley perked up. “Awww, puddin’! That’s not faiiir! I wanted to solve Eddie’s riddle!” She pouted, putting her hands on her hips.

“But I haven’t said anything concise yet! You can still answer him, toots.”

Harley beamed and jumped out of the couch, standing with a pirouette. “It’s _the Batman_!!!” She proclaimed happily and with her arms open wide, turning to look expectantly at Edward.

“…No.” His eyebrow arching worriedly. The girl was a lot more stupid than he thought. “That’s… not the answer. That doesn’t even have _anything_ to do with the riddle.”

“Aww, bugger!” She made an extremely sad face and went back to her couch, letting herself plop down on it, defeated.

“Harls! It’s _telepathy,_ I thought you had it!” Exclaimed the Joker while turning on his chair to look back at her, something between exasperation and amusement coloring his voice. But it turned out the Maid of Mischief was not the only one currently mixing up subjects.

“Wait? Telepathy? How come? I haven’t done anything besides _thinking_. I was… pretty sure you were just reading my mind all along.” It was more an explanation than a question, but the dubitative look on Edward’s face spoke for him; he had already settled into that usual posture with both legs and arms crossed and one hand holding his chin he used to adopt when _deeply reflecting_ about something. Joker refocused on him and started his explanation with a flourish. “That’s because you, my pal, are a _newbie_.”

The Riddler merely stared.

“Or, well, at least I assumed you were a newbie seeing how clueless you were when I first spoke to you, ha! Did you get spooked, huh? Did you?”

The aforementioned ignored his taunt and kept pushing for a more-or-less logical explanation. “But _how_ did you know I would be able to hear you? I don’t think you go around Arkham randomly speaking to other people in their minds until you found someone who could do it too, I hope—” The manic grin plastered on Joker’s face made him reconsider his last statement. “Or maybe you do…” He said with a sigh, suddenly a little disgusted.

“Oh, no no no no. It was not like that at all! You were the one who wouldn’t shut up, boy. _That’s_ how I _found_ you! I heard you ramblin’ on and on about the happenin’s in your schizophrenic match of chess. Pieces, moves, self adoration, self wooin’ and what not! I couldn’t tune you out no matter how hard I tried.” Now this seemed to surprise Edward. Just as it seemed to be Joker’s turn to rub his face, stretching his skin morbidly, just to make a point of how actually annoying the experience had been. “Aaand, when I couldn’t take it no longer, that’s when my fine person decided to pay you a visit~”

“That still doesn’t answer my question. Not fully, at least. For the umpteenth time, Joker, _how_ did you know it was _me_?”

“Eddie… Work with me here, won’t ya?”

“Okay…? So?”

“Your voice, smart idiot! Your voice! I would recognize that uppity, obnoxious, utterly loud voice of yours anywhere. Hell, I’m sure anyone in Gotham would! Our poor eardrums…”

‘But don’t worry, sweetheart, your voice is the beautiful kind of obnoxious.’ The wink in his voice was clear to Edward even in telepathic speech.

‘Ugh, stay out of my head, please.’

“Ho, boy! You did it! Uncle Joker is so proud of you.” The clown made a mockery of wiping away a nonexistent tear. “And if you happen to require more goal oriented trainin’, you know I’m always game and willin’ to give you some… _Private lessons_.”

Edward steeled himself and willed his whole being not to look too rattled by the other _’s_ offering. He was most certainly not blushing either. No chance in hell, the mere thought of Joker trying _anything_ private with him was unsettling at least and plain gross at most. Luckily, Harley chimed in again, and prevented him from having to come with a witty and straight retort to save his pride.

“Lessons on what, Puddin’? Can I help? I also want to play with the two of you!”

Forget it, she was useless and only managed to make things worse as always.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’m sure I am more than capable to handle this issue entirely by my highly educated self. No ‘private lessons’ are required.” He said with a slight sneer, his mouth twisting a bit to imprint sardonic contempt into the last words. He would acknowledge Joker, not recoiling from whatever impudence he may express, but not much more than that. The madman didn’t deserve it.

“Ow, sorry, Pumpkin. This particular game I’m talking about can only be played by Eddie here and myself. But you can join us in _other_ games later~” He laughed grimly, low and dark and sensuous.

Talk about uncomfortable situations.

Joker’s eyes were trained on Edward’s, predatory, acute like the faithful knife he illegally pocketed in the back of his pants when no one was watching. And Riddler stared back, his blue eyes unyielding, for he perceived this was a crucial moment in their relationship. If it could even be called that. He held his ground nonetheless.

The air surrounding them stilled and the chatter of the common room seemed very distant to their ears, as if that secluded corner of Arkham Asylum suddenly composed the world in its entirety. And who could say for sure it didn’t? A world just for the three of them.

“Oh, I’d love to, Mistah J! You know it! But… What about the chess?” She asked at last, noticing the change of attitude in both men, in ways she couldn’t exactly explain, and feeling a little weirded out by it. Luckily, she contributed with something for the intellectual to take advantage of too. “Boys?”

“We can’t continue; the pieces fell in disarray when I slammed the table. And it was getting too random for my standards anyway.” He shrugged. His little stare contest with the jester getting to its end on the spot.

“Well, I think that’s all then. My work here is done.” The Joker stood, after he finished stretching his long white limbs over his head. As in cue, Harley sprung from the couch for a second time that evening and went to his side. “Keep at it, Eddie! I’d _love_ to join you at the table again! And crush you again, of course.” He was starting to make his way for the door. “Just _legitimately_ this time. Without you telling me about your moves, for starters!”

“There were _special circumstances_ at play. You can be sure they will not. Mean. A. Thing. Next time, clown.”

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” And immediately after saying that, with no indication whatsoever, Joker stopped in front of Riddler’s chair, forcibly turned it around to make the other man face him and without warning kissed him full on the lips. It was rough and invasive, and demanding of something yet unknown, and Edward couldn’t have separated himself from it even if he’d wanted to, because he was trapped in his chair and Joker was grabbing his head. Holding him in place by the nape. The kiss was not necessarily long, but it wasn’t short either. Just the right length to cause, and leave, a lasting impression on Edward. Poor thing, his stomach always ended up in knots after experiences like this. ‘Yeah, that’s much more satisfyin’. I needed to claim my _prize_.’ The Joker murmured, still against his lips. Right after, the Clown Prince of Crime released him and turned to leave, but not before patting him _hard_ on the back.

“See’ya, boy! Let’s go, Harley.”

“Comin’, Mistah J~”

He was still a little dazed and thinking of life and its mysteries when Harley passed beside him and, of course he didn’t react in time again, no one ever gives him the chance when it comes to this kind of issues, practically took a seat on his lap. In the blink of an eye, her arms were wrapped around his neck and she was kissing him deeply for a second or two. She parted and kissed his nose too, lovingly. She giggled naughtily and retreated, a light skip adorning her step.

Edward remained frozen in his chair, taking a moment to consider the taste of both their lipsticks, still fresher than fresh on his mouth. Hers tasted like cherry, his tasted like bubble gum… or, was he mixing them up? Who knows, who cares.

Watching the pair go, Edward merely snorted.

“I’m surrounded by idiots.” He said out loud, and not without a certain disdain, as if trying to prove something. A defiance of sorts. He picked up the chess pieces and started rearranging them for his next match.

 

When Jervis came around several hours later and noticed the garish red on the Riddler’s lips, he couldn’t help but _ask_ what it was all about. Uncharacteristically enough, the intellectual answered with a cuss word of choice while desperately trying to wipe the color away. Unfortunately for him, the one on his cheeks wouldn’t come off as easily.

**Author's Note:**

> Based on a tumblr prompt about telepathy that required person A to be skilled at it, person B to be a beginner, and person C to be oblivious. Guess who was who :)
> 
> Thanks for reading and remember Reviews are always appreciated~


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